Nights like this
by Yessica-N
Summary: Sometimes, things don't have to be complicated to be good. (Connor/Markus)


**Wrote this for a fanzine on tumbr but forgot to post it until now... anyway, here's some domestic Conkus fluff**

* * *

It's almost midnight by the time he gets home.

The sky is an inky black, though the stars are barely visible because of Detroit's industry. Air pollution is a foul thing, Connor thinks.

He opens the door carefully, leaning his weight onto it to stop it from creaking or making any other kinds of intrusive noises. Not that there is anybody in the house to wake.

Markus is up waiting for him.

He looks weary, his clothes disheveled like maybe he has been pacing around or something. He smiles when their eyes meet though, shoulders slumping downward and Connor feels guilty for not calling.

He should know better by now.

"Hey." He says softly, as if making too much noise would break something. Something fragile in the air between them. Something neither of them wants to touch.

"Hey." Markus echoes back at him, taking a step closer but not quite breaching the distance between them, hands hanging limp beside his body but his fingers twitch restlessly. "You're home late."

"I know. A formality came up at the office, it was very important so I thought-" Connor stops, Markus is looking at him with an indiscernible emotion on his face and Connor realizes it doesn't matter what he says, does it? Because it's always the same story.

"I'm sorry." He says instead, but it sounds dull and lacking.

Markus nods his head and turns around. Connor watches him walk away while something clenches inside his chest, painful.

This must be what guilt feels like.

When he gets to the living room Markus is sitting on the couch, one leg folded beneath himself gingerly and he's staring at anything besides his lover entering the room. Connor observes him for a second, simply processing the task before him.

He despises this. The powerlessness he feels in making this right. And the fact that he knows Markus isn't truly angry at him, not the way he deserves to be.

Because above all else, Markus understands. Understands what the work means for Connor. Stability. Normalcy. Something he stubbornly holds onto in the changing world around them.

He sits down next to the android in question, putting his hands in his lap awkwardly, because he isn't sure what else to do with them. Markus looks at him, at his stiff pose and serious expression, and laughs.

"It's fine." He says then, one hand rubbing the side of Connor's arm. His foot bumps against the other's leg. "I'm not mad or anything."

"I know." Connor says then, intertwining their fingers and looking at their hands, together. It flutters in his ribcage, like his thirium pump is malfunctioning all of the sudden, though not that is it?

He still isn't sure how this came to be. What feels like ages ago Connor had never thought anything like this, like love, would be even remotely conceivable for him. Emotions were still such a newborn concept to him, sometimes it felt like he was lost floundering at sea, helpless to decipher what exactly was happening to him.

"But you should be."

And he draws his hand back, painful as that is. Resolve blossoms inside him and he looks at Markus with a serious expression on his face.

"I should have called you but I didn't and I'm sorry."

His boyfriend blinks at him in surprise, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile that doesn't quite reach the rest of his face and he nods at Connor to indicate he's listening, if at a loss for words.

"You deserve to know when I'm coming home late. Or going out with Hank after work. Or caught up in a case. You deserve to know because you're important to me too."

He exhales, an unnecessary action but it steadies him. His fingers clench and unclench rhythmically, empty. A nervous habit he hasn't quite gotten rid of, even after months.

The first recesses of something so very human.

Markus grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers once more and then he's pulling, heaving Connor halfway up onto his lap so their legs rest comfortably on top of each other, like puzzle pieces locking together naturally and this time the smile does reach.

"Thank you." He says simply, bringing Connor's hand closely to his face and then he's pressing a kiss to his knuckles, ever so softly. The sensation is odd, warm and Connor feels his shoulders sag in relief.

"For what?" He asks despite himself, because as much as he needed to say it, he needs to hear it from Markus too. Needs the reassurance that he hasn't screwed up as badly as he feels he has.

Like he is a good person still.

"For being considerate." Markus answers, pulling him closer still and Connor can see every artificial imperfection on his skin, every odd freckle and the different coloration of his eyes, blinking at him slowly.

Like the entire world is reflected back at him.

He leans forward, pressing their lips together quickly, and Markus sighs into the motion, one hand moving up to cradle the back of his boyfriend's head, fingers moving through his hair carefully.

They pull back after a few short moments, not that the lack of air is any concern for them but Markus chuckles, voice edged with amusement.

"If it's going to be like this every time, you have my permission to come home late more often."

Connor rolls his eyes at him, pushing him aside playfully and getting up off the couch to finally take his shoes off, something he had completely forgotten about until now.

"I'm serious though." He pouts at the floor and Markus laughs again, a lovely sound. Connor never gets tired of it.

"I know." He brushes his fingers against the back of Connor's neck softly, sending a shiver down the other's spine. The movement is delicate and when they lock eyes again there's a different emotion in Markus' face. "I think I know how you can make it up to me though."

Connor smiles, letting himself be pulled in for another kiss, and vows never to be home late again.

* * *

**Tumblr: sharada-n**


End file.
